She Isn't Your Daughter, Sherlock
by OncomingEastWind
Summary: After a young girl shows up on the doorstep of 221b Baker Street, things begin to change. John isn't who he used to be, and Sherlock isn't either. How will the Watsons deal with both of their new daughters? This takes place after series 3, and there will be spoilers. This is my first fanfiction!
1. The Show

This is my first fanfiction, so bear with me. I'm not quite sure how this is going to go, but I have a few chapters written already. I've read plenty of stories about Sherlock having a daughter, so I thought _What if John had a daughter that he didn't know about?_ It takes place after series 3 (if you are reading this in the future, after series 4, I'm sorry it's inaccurate). Okay, here goes nothing.

The sound of their footsteps echoed around the halls of the school. It was kind of strange, he thought, that he was actually looking forward to this. John, however, seemed bored and angry. Considering the circumstances, it was as if they had switched personalities.

They entered the auditorium and found adjacent seats close to the front. The headmaster of the school gave a brief speech about how the talent show would work. _Why is it called giving a speech? No-one is receiving anything._ Yet another pointless expression that Sherlock didn't bother to understand. He wasn't really paying attention, though. He was thinking.

He was thinking about how he, Sherlock Holmes, was _proud_ of another human being. It was complicated though, because he wasn't her father, John was. He had tried to convince himself not to get involved, to be like Mycroft, but here he was, at a talent show for her.

A few acts passed, including idiotic magic shows that he could see right through, and off-key singing. Very few were actually decent, and none were what they came to see. Until the last act.

They introduced her using her full name, Emma Omniscia Watson. He could see her ears burning bright red as she walked across the stage to the grand piano. He glanced at John, who was staring ahead. Little did John know that this would be the first time he would hear his daughter's voice. John knew that she had been taking piano lessons, as he had paid for them, but that was it. He'd never known much about Omni after all the years since he first met her at age twelve. That was four years ago.

Omni sat down at the piano as a stagehand brought her a microphone on a stand. John turned to him, clearly confused, wondering why his _mute_ daughter needed a microphone. Sherlock shrugged, but didn't say anything. The blonde girl at the piano, who looked so much like his friend, looked at Sherlock. He nodded and she closed her eyes, starting to move her fingers across the keys. She really was an excellent pianist. Though she never mentioned it, he wondered if she had ever taken lessons as a child.

He had heard her play this song so many times, the words were practically burned into his mind. He had listened to the song on the internet immediately after she told him the title, _Nearly Forgot My Broken Heart._ The first thought that crossed his mind was that the music in the song was almost completely guitar. She later explained that she would replace the guitar music with piano. He questioned it the entire time, but she made it work, just like she said she would.

After the intro, she opened her mouth and began to sing. That was when he realized that was not only the first time John would hear her voice, but the first time that anyone in that room would, except for him. She had, for reasons he did not know, trusted him more than anyone else, more than her own father. She didn't speak to those she didn't trust.

Everyone around him had their mouths hanging open with shock. Her voice was pure and beautiful, and she hit the notes perfectly. The words were sung with raw passion. When she opened her eyes, she looked into John's. She was crying, and wasn't trying to hide it.

 _Every time I stare into the sun, trying to find a reason to go on, all I ever get is burned and blind, until the sky bleeds the pouring rain._

 _When you came along, the time was right. You pulled me like an apple, red and ripe. It wasn't very long, when you took a bite, did me wrong, and it serves me right._

 _[And I nearly forgot my broken heart, it's taken me miles away from the memory of how we broke apart. Here we go round again, again]_

 _Every little key unlocks the door. Every little secret has a lie. Trying to take a picture of the sun, but it won't help you to see the light._

 _Every little word upon your lips makes a little cut where blood pours out. Every little drop of blood's a kiss that I won't miss, not for anything._

 _[Chorus]_

 _Every single feeling tells me this is leading to a heart in broken little pieces, and you know I need this like a hole in the head._

 _Every single feeling tells me this is leading to a heart in broken little pieces, and you know I need this like a hole..._

 _[Chorus X2]_

As John glared at him, he realized that he was smiling. Though he usually would have caught himself and stopped, he didn't. He kept grinning, a natural, perfect grin. Omni stood, bowed, and ran straight off the stage to him. The auditorium erupted with applause. Omni caught him off guard by hugging him, her tears soaking his shirt. "Thank you, Sherlock."

He held out his arms and looked at John, unsure of what to do. "Don't ask me. You clearly know my daughter better than I do. I might as well be a stranger, Sherlock. Now, excuse me. Mary probably needs me." The words hit him like a slap to the face. Was he really blaming him for this? He didn't ask for this girl to walk into his life. And, it was John, after all, that spent all of his time with Mary and Abigail, his _other_ daughter. Sherlock sometimes wondered if he was ashamed of Omni. Though he didn't say it, John must have known who Omni's mother was.

She let go of him and looked up at his face, their gazes connecting. Seeing her green eyes reminded him of the first time he saw her. She was standing on the steps of 221b Baker Street, her brow furrowed in disappointment. He remembered how much she looked like John, the John from back then.


	2. Where They Began

"Mrs Hudson!" called Sherlock. The doorbell rang for a fifth time, making the detective's brow furrow. _Someone's persistent._ He rose to his feet, his body protesting all the while, and forced himself down the staircase. When he threw open the door, expecting a worried client, he was shocked.

Green eyes stared up at him from a pale face. The girl standing on the concrete was short and thin, only thirteen at most. Bruises were scattered across her body like stars in the night sky. Something about her general manner was familiar, though he'd never seen her before. Neither her age nor the obvious signs of abuse confused him as much as the clearly disappointed pout that was on her lips. If she wasn't here to see him, then why was she here at all?

On her shoulder was a backpack. It was tattered and old, as were her clothes. She was wearing a plain white tank top with a black skirt, cardigan, and Chuck Taylors. Around her neck was a round, golden locket. When new, her clothes would have been considered nice, but they were at least a year old, her sleeves were too short, and her skirt had been recently re-hemmed. Her blonde hair was sloppily cut at shoulder length. This was probably the nicest outfit she owned. The girl's family, which he doubted she had, was not very well off. The visible bruises were accompanied by abrasions. These were not signs of abuse by an adult; this child had been bullied, tormented by other children. He reached his conclusion: the girl was an orphan, an outcast. She was different than other children, and she was hated for it.

Something in the back of his mind twitched to life: a memory. A memory of himself as a boy, being shoved to the ground. Voices around him shouted things like _what a freak_ and _he belongs in a nut house._ A teenaged Mycroft leaned against a fence, observing from afar, but never interfering. _That hasn't changed a bit,_ he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the orphan girl swinging her bag off of her shoulder.

"What do you want?" Sherlock barked. To his frustration, she did not respond, and proceeded to hand him an envelope from her bag. As he opened it, he saw that it was a brief letter written in thin cursive. He read through it, squinting occasionally at the handwriting. She did not waste her words and got to the point quickly.

 _You most likely know John Watson. If you don't know him, please return the letter and I will leave. However, if you do know him and could help me find him, please do so. To whom it may concern, my name is Emma Omniscia Watson. Yes, Watson, I know. Please don't call me Emma, I prefer Omniscia or Omni, because Emma is much too ordinary. John is my biological father. I have never met him and he does not know that I exist. -EOW_

The detective's eyes widened in shock. He looked at her face again, realising why she looked so familiar. She looked like John, with a few exceptions. Her nose was a bit longer, and her eyes were larger, but her facial expressions matched his friend's so well. Something else about her reminded him of another person, but he didn't know who. Sherlock's mind was racing. John must have been training at Barts when she was born. Was it possible that he knew her mother? What would John say? What would Mary _, pregnant Mary_ say?

 _Shut up, Sherlock! Think! A child shows up on your doorstep, days after the possible return of Moriarty, claiming she's John's lost daughter. She's been beaten, and that could be partially Jim's doing. Figure out if her information is valid!_

"So," he started coolly, " _Omni,_ is it? How can I be sure that you are John's daughter?" She raised an eyebrow, as if she was saying _Do you really expect me to answer that?_ "Okay, then. Tea?" The girl nodded her assent, still not speaking. Was she mute? Deaf? He would have to find out.

Mrs. Hudson followed them up the stairs, mumbling to herself as she went. For some reason, she didn't approve of the girl being there. Actually, she probably didn't approve of her being there with _him. He_ was not a good influence. _He_ would plant bad ideas in her head. Everything was always _his_ fault.

"John doesn't live here anymore," he explained, gesturing to the chair that had been John's, "he hasn't for months." The girl, Omni, sat down, her head in her hands. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. _What is it with her and raising eyebrows? It's as if that's her only way of communicating._ He assumed that she wasn't planning on talking to him. "Can you hear?" he asked, hoping for at least a nod. The laugh that followed his question sounded much like a scoff. Had he insulted her? It wasn't surprising, everything _he_ did was insulting. After a minute, she nodded slowly. "Can you speak?" The only answer he received that time was a grin. That smile, accompanied by her wide eyes, was so frustratingly familiar.

The two of them sat there, staring at each other for nearly ten minutes before Mrs Hudson walked in with a tea tray. "I thought the clients always sat over there," she said, gesturing to the other side of the room. _Well, she's obviously not a client, then._

"They do," he told her, "thank you for the tea, Mrs Hudson. Would you excuse us?" He stood, opened the door and practically shoved her through it. "And while you're gone, consider buying a hearing aid. It was five that time." He lingered in the doorway for a moment with his arms crossed. "Do you happen to know who your mother is?" Omni rolled her eyes and shook her head. This not talking bit was going to get old really fast. _This must be how John feels when I don't talk to him._

The sound of John's footsteps on the stairs came as a relief. _John's put on weight again._ "Sherlock! I got your text. Is everyone okay?" after a quick glance around the room, his worried facial expression changing instantaneously to annoyed. "Damn it! You have got to stop saying everything is an emergency!"

"Well, if you were aware of the situation, you might understand. Omniscia, here, is claiming to be your daughter." He took a sip of his tea. "Oh, and don't try to get her to talk, she's mute." Omni shot him a look that he took to mean that that wasn't the best way to break the news to his friend. He shrugged and shifted his attention to John, who hadn't moved since Sherlock spoke last. His shoulders were tense and his forehead was creased in concentration.

"Wh-what?"

"I _said_ that she claims to be-"

"I heard you! Just, what? Are you sure?"

"No, that's just what her note said." Sherlock handed him the small paper. After raking his eyes across the letter, he closed his eyes. _He's not taking this well… It could be worse, but-_

"You weren't jok- you were serious. Shit! How long have you known?"

"Calm down, John. You're being irrational."

"Calm down? I have a pregnant wife at home, and I was just told, by my _high_ best friend, that I have a mute daughter! I will not ' _calm down'!"_

"I am not _high,_ John! I am jus-"

"Look who needs to calm down now!" They had risen to their feet, and were staring each other in the eyes. Omniscia, who had been sitting back watching this argument unfold, rose to her feet also. Both of the men's heads snapped over to her, breaking up their _conversation._ She balled up her fist and drew a circle in the air around her stomach with it.

"It's sign language, she's hungry," Sherlock grumbled, his voice still clearly upset from yelling.

"How the _Hell_ do you know- never mind. Okay, then. I'll get takeaway." As he stomped away, Sherlock squinted his eyes at her. Though he could observe her basic traits, he knew that there were other things that she kept hidden. _Who are you?_ He was shocked to see her sign his exact thoughts.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes," he responded. She shook her head. _No, who are you?_ He realised that she wasn't asking for his name. The question echoed in his head again and again. _Who are you?_ "Oh…" It was at that exact moment that he realized who else she looked like. It was at that exact moment that James Moriarty himself sauntered into 221b Baker Street.

 **Okay, so how were those chapters? In later chapters, Omni has a more important role in the story. I'll try to post a chapter per week, but no promises. It wasn't until after I had already posted the first chapter, that I noticed I had accidentally named her Emma Watson… Anyway, please review!**


	3. Her Uncle

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?" That much-too familiar Irish accent rang through the flat, chilling the spines of the others.

"Not at all, _Jim._ We were just having a chat," Sherlock responded sarcastically, he waved his hand in the nonchalantly. Omniscia's jaw had dropped, and she was staring at the criminal maliciously. Something about that made him think that they had met before. Most people don't hate Moriarty _this_ quickly after first meeting him.

"Oh, I doubt that. Not much of a talker, are we, _Omni?"_ As he passed by her, she practically leapt out of his way. "Ooh! A bit jumpy today! I thought our last meeting went quite well, but _apparently not._ "

"Omniscia, come over here." A stern, protective edge had come over his voice. She listened to him, standing behind Sherlock. Only her face was visible from behind him.

"Oh you don't think I would hurt her, do you? Nah, I like her, and, of course, she _is_ my niece…" Sherlock closed his eyes. _This changes everything._ "I never told you about my sister. Stupid you, you probably just assumed I didn't have one. Never make assumptions, Sherlock…"

"No, I'm just surprised you didn't kill her as a child," Sherlock snapped. Moriarty grinned a wide, guilty grin, reminding Sherlock of the one on Omni's face only minutes ago. "So, you didn't shoot yourself?"

"We're very abrupt today, Sherlock. What's gotten into you? Well, I think we all _know_ what's gotten into you." He pretended to put a needle in his arm. "I thought you'd stopped, but that was before the _wedding…"_

"Is that a no to the shooting?"

"Speaking of weddings, one of my favorite fairy tales has one, _The Wedding of Mrs Fox..._ Mr Fox sadly passes away, and Mrs Fox is very upset… Soon, though, many suitors try to capture her attention, but none succeed. Until!" His sudden outburst caused Omni to jump, spilling her tea, "one _particular_ fox came along, and he had nine tails just like her _late_ husband did! They are to be wed, but just before they say 'I do', Mr Fox bursts through the doors and stops the wedding."

"He faked his death to test her fidelity," Sherlock whispered, suddenly realising why he was telling him this story. _He's insane. He's completely insane!_

"I was _only_ gone a few years, Sherlock… can't believe you didn't wait for me!" He was wearing a fox tie pin, the same one he wore on the day of his trial, years ago.

"I'm so sorry, _Jim,"_ he spat. Omni signed, _For what? Solving other cases? "_ Yes, he's upset because I solved other cases. Bit selfish, really." He laughed and crossed his legs.

"Well, when you put it that way… Anyway, must be going." As he turned around and walked away, Sherlock noticed a scar on the back of his neck.

"So the answer is yes?" Moriarty lifted a hand, and brushed it across the scar.

"Hm, I suppose I must've," he responded airily, and strolled out of the flat.

A low, rumbling laugh escaped Sherlock's lips. It rolled through the room, breaking the tension that had formerly filled it. _What is wrong with you?,_ Omni asked. "Oh, Omniscia, the game is on!" he yelled, there was a fire in his blue-green eyes, "the game is on, and the rules have been changed… I expected a change in players, but not this. This- this was unexpected!" _You going to be okay?_ "Okay? I'm better than I've been in ages!" _What's his name?_ Sherlock looked confused, but answered, "His name is James Moriarty, why?" _No reason,_ she responded, but she looked deep in thought.

Sherlock was still watching her quizzically, when John walked in with bags smelling of curry. "Mary's coming over," he grumbled, looking between the two of them, "did I… miss something?"

 _No, nothing, really._ "Not much, no." Sherlock glanced at her. _She isn't completely horrid, I suppose…_ "So, um. We should eat."

The three of them ate in awkward silence until Mary arrived. Her face looked strained, but she forced a smile. After everyone was properly introduced, they went back to eating. Neither Omniscia, nor Sherlock mentioned their meeting with Moriarty. It was as if they had a silent agreement not to discuss it until further notice.

Omni stayed at the Watsons' that night, wearing a pair of Mary's pyjamas that were much too large for her frail body. Omniscia was the only one to sleep though, as the other two lay awake trying to answer the same question, _who the hell is her mother?_

 **I'm sorry this chapter is short, so I'm giving you two at a time for whatever Winter holiday you may celebrate! That is, if you aren't reading this in the future… So, um, yeah, here's another chapter. Psst! I like the next one better than this one. REVIEW PLEASE!**


	4. Trust Issues

Sherlock stepped out of the cab and turned up his collar, raindrops bouncing off of his coat. He walked up to the door, only to find a soaking wet Omniscia sitting under the awning of the sandwich shop next to 221b. "Shouldn't you be… somewhere else?"

She sighed and signed, _John and mary are at work and their door was locked, but I don't have a key. So I came here but it was locked too, and Mrs Hudson is out, and I'm out of cab money, and, and, I've had a bad day._

"Okay…" Sherlock paused, unlocking the door. The question of whether or not to invite a teenage girl into his flat didn't come up often. "Come in… do you um, want food? We probably have food somewhere…"

"Yeah, that would be great, thank you," she answered. She had an Irish accent. _She has an Irish accent._ Sherlock spun around, his eyes wide.

"So you _can_ talk?" Omniscia shrugged, a smile growing on her still-wet face. "Why start now?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, I figured, since you can trust me, I can trust you." At the look of confusion on his face, she paused. "You could have just given me cab money and sent me on my way, but you didn't. You offered me food and welcomed me into your flat, and based on what I saw yesterday, I don't think that was a very Sherlock Holmes move. This leads to the question, _why?_ Well, Jim revealed your drug habit yesterday, and you've just stumbled out of a cab in the same clothes as yesterday, _so,"_ she paused again, taking a deep breath, "you let me come into your flat, trying to, uh, _butter me up_ , so that I wouldn't tell my father about your little _outings._ Not that I could tell him much of anything, but… Anyway, am I right?" Sherlock glared at her, not used to the taste of his own medicine, coming from anyone but Mycroft. He didn't answer her. "Okay, am I _wrong?"_

" _No,"_ he snapped, "and I did not _stumble_ out of the cab."

"Ooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Oh, but it wasn't a bed, was it? It was a concrete _floor_!"

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the _bunk!"_ he shot back, sounding quite childish.

"I don't sleep on a bunk anymore, _Sherlock._ In case you have _forgotten_ , I actually don't live at an orphanage anymore. But, at least I sleep, unlike you!"

"I guess I can add menstruating orphans to my list of people to avoid!"

"No _shit_ , Sherlock."

"Fuck you, _Watson."_

They both grumbled under their breath as they trudged up the stairs. Omni ate curry from dinner the night before, all the while scowling at Sherlock. When she was done eating, she sat in John's chair and crossed her legs, her brow furrowed. _She looks just like John when she's angry._

"His name can't be Moriarty. It doesn't make sense."

"What?"

"If his name is Moriarty, then my mother was married when I was born, which I seriously doubt, so… his name can't be Moriarty."

"Wait, you know your mother's name? I asked you if you knew who she was, and you said no!"

"I don't know who she is! There are a lot of people whose last name is Brook, you know!" Sherlock's face calmed, as thoughts flooded his mind. Omniscia unclasped the locket around her neck and pulled out a tiny, folded up piece of paper. The only words on it were _Emma Omniscia Watson, daughter of John Watson and J. Brook._ "At first I thought there must be too many John Watsons also, but then I saw him in the paper and found his blog… I look alot like him."

"I know you do," Sherlock stood and walked to the window, gazing out into the rain. "and I don't doubt that you are his daughter." He tried to push away memories of his adventures with John, but then Mrs Hudson's voice from months ago said, "Marriage changes people in ways you can't imagine." At the time, he had ignored her rambling about how she lost a friend after her marriage. It dawned on him that that was his reality now. He wondered if John actually understood how important he was to Sherlock, that he wasn't just a _friend_ to him. He distracted himself by whispering, "Richard Brook."

"The actor?"

"Exactly, Omniscia. The actor." his eyes had grown wide, and puzzle pieces started to fall into place in his mind. "He couldn't have lied about being an award-winning actor, because anyone would have to recognize him. He _is_ Richard Brook! He acted before he knew I existed! Moriarty isn't real. There is no James Moriarty."

"Holy shit. It all makes sense now."

"Am I supposed to tell you not to swear? I'm not used to, um-"

"Children?"

"Yeah, that."

 **So, yeah. There are your short holiday chapters. I'm hoping you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it! I have secretly always wanted to include the "No shit, Sherlock." "Fuck you, Watson." lines in a fanfiction. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**


	5. Following Notes

Sherlock lay on the sofa, watching an insect scuttle across the ceiling at nearly three in the morning. This wasn't out of the ordinary, of course, considering his sleep schedule. What was different though, was what he was thinking about. He tried to focus on the Moriarty case, but he kept wandering back to Omni. It was strange to him, not being in complete control of where his thoughts went.

Based on her accent, he assumed she was from somewhere near Dublin. Mud that he scraped from her shoes had proven him right. She slumped when she stood, and her posture in general was poor, which suggested that she sat at a computer often. During their argument, she had made the fact that she slept sound significant, which may have meant that she hadn't much before now. When insulted, she was instantly aggressive, as she was probably used to having to defend herself. He assumed her said reason for not using her first name was an excuse, and not the full reason. A memory of himself as a small child, his curls flattened by a pirate's hat came back to him; Mycroft was chasing him and yelling, " _Billy! Get back here!"_ He brushed it away, his eyes stinging. He made a mental note not to scream at Omni the next time she came by. _Who knows? She could be useful._

Though he wasn't completely sure why he was so curious about her past, he thought it had something to do with what people called _empathy_. It surprised him, how quickly he had lowered his walls for _her_ , a seemingly mundane human being. Maybe it was his doubt of whether she really was ordinary. After all, she had been able to deduce his motives for offering her food the day before, something even John wouldn't think twice about...

He was thinking about why she only talked to a few people, and her process of choosing whom, when a loud high-pitched noise came from across the room. After being in silence for hours, it made his head throb. He saw that it was his phone ringing, and instinctively called for Mrs Hudson. "She won't hear me anyway," he grumbled, rising from the sofa. Seeing that it was John, he picked up his phone, and answered it. "John? What is it? What's wrong?" His friend's voice came through sounding stressed and tired, as it had for the past few weeks. _She's gone, Sherlock. Emma, she's gone._ Sherlock's muscles tensed, "Omniscia?" _What? Um, yeah. Emma, Omniscia, whatever. It doesn't matter. Just, um, can you help? Please._ Though he hadn't been ecstatic when he first met her, John was already trying to protect his newly found daughter. "Of course, John."

His coat billowed behind him as he ran through the flat and down the stairs. Before throwing open the door, he pulled a note off of it. _The first clue._

 _Did you know there's another one about a musician? He plays his fiddle, and all kinds of animals come, but he doesn't want their company. No, he seeks the attention of a strong woodsman. Soon enough, the woodsman comes along and ends up saving the musician's life. Hmm, sounds familiar, doesn't it? Just like a certain musician I know… -JM_

Trying to ignore what the note could be implying, Sherlock hailed a cab. He cleared his mind on the way to John's flat. When the car pulled up, Sherlock practically threw his money at the driver, and ran up to the door. Another note was stuck to the door, which simply read:

 _How did I do it, Sherlock?_

It obviously didn't mean the kidnapping, if that's what this was. It would be extremely easy to take a weak, sleeping, 12 year old girl from her bed. He must have meant his _death_ , then. Was the jagged scar on the back of his neck makeup? It was very unlikely for anyone to live through a headshot like that. So, that must have meant that he didn't survive a headshot at all. But how did he stage it? That was the question. It was a question that he would answer if everything wasn't so loud. He spun around and yelled, "Shut up!" at a car with a blaring alarm.

"You do know it can't hear you, right?" Lestrade asked him, as they walked up the stairs. He pushed open a door to the Watson's guest room, and handed him another note. "This was on her pillow. Any idea what it means?"

 _I hid her at the place where all of the stories started. Hurry, now Sherlock, it's very dark. If you aren't quick, she'll be still as a statue… and cold as stone!_

 _JM_

"He's back."

"Who? Moriarty?" John's worried voice called from the doorway. Sherlock turned to look at him, his face serious.

"Yes, Moriarty. He's back, and he wants me to play another game. Except, this time, I think your daughter's life is on the line."

"Okay, but how? And what's the note got to do with anything?" Lestrade chimed in.

Sherlock was quiet for a minute, as he thought. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, and he whispered, "Oh! He wants me to go to Hanau."

"Where?" the others asked.

"Hanau, Germany. Where the brothers Grimm were born, and where 'All the stories started.'" Just then, his phone rang, and a cry came from another room. John and Lestrade ran out, as Sherlock answered his phone. "Hello?" _You solved this one very quick, Sherlock! I'm so proud…_ Jim Moriarty's voice responded, _Now you just have to come and find her!_ He hung up, and John ran back into the bedroom.

"It's Mary. Her contractions started."

 **Hey, I hope you liked that chapter! I know the special just came out, and my story is already slightly (okay, more than slightly) inaccurate, but I'm going to keep writing. How am I doing for my first fanfiction? If you're from the UK, and you notice that I've written something about British culture wrong, please tell me. PLEASE REVIEW! IT HELPS ME SO MUCH!**

 **Okay, if you aren't one of the guests who reviewed, you don't have to read the next part (I'm going to respond to their reviews)**

 **To the guest who had never seen Sherlock, I'm glad you like it, and I fully recommend the show to you!**

 **To the 2nd guest who thought I was British, I'm actually American, but I'm trying to use correct British slang. I'm glad you liked the way I wrote their personalities!**

 **To Humanbeing, I loosely based her off of both Luna and a bit of myself! I'm sorry you thought it was anticlimactic… I'll try to give her more lines.**

 **To Fan, thank you! I really like Omni's character, and I have ideas for her.**

 **That's all! Thank you for reviewing, and I'll post a new chapter next week (** _ **ish**_ **)...**


	6. A Pleasant Party

"It's Mary. Her contractions started."

"Okay, well, we knew that was going to happen soon. Just call her an ambulance."

"That's not how it works, Sherlock. They'll last for a while before we need to take her to the hospital."

"So you can be back in time."

"Back from where, Sherlock? I'm not leaving."

"You do realize that you have a daughter that is already alive and in danger?"

"Yes, I know that, Sherlock. I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I just," he paused, thinking about what to say, "I have to stay. Mary will need-"

"Okay, I understand." Sherlock started to walk out of the room, avoiding eye contact. Just before he left, though, he turned back to look at him. "You are not stupid, John. I don't think that, and neither should you."

"Sherlock, wait. I never really said, but I know why you did what you did at Appledore, and just… thank you." They shared a glance before Sherlock hurried outside. There was a car that was obviously one of Mycroft's waiting for him. When he stepped inside it, his phone rang again.

"Mycroft?" _You do remember that I am supposed to monitor you at all times, and that I cannot do that legally when you go inside of a private residence, brother?_ "No, sorry. Must have slipped my mind. And don't even pretend that you didn't 'monitor' me when I was in there." _Of course I did. After all, I have to make sure you don't shoot anyone…_

"Oh, shut up! Do you actually have something important to say, or are you just calling to _chat_?" _Just remember not to allow sentiment, Sherlock. Remember Redbeard._ Sherlock hung up the phone, and rubbed his stinging eyes. _Ugh._ His hand was wet. He had let himself cry, as he had often done since the wedding.

While boarding the plane, Sherlock passed more of Mycroft's men. He sat in his seat and closed his eyes. He visualized Hanau, its old brick buildings and the statue of the Grimm brothers standing tall. It wasn't like many people had heard of it, with the exception of locals, _him_ , and avid fiction readers, maybe. It wasn't like there was some iconic image of it. The only thing notable there was "The statue." He opened his eyes to see many turned heads. He rolled his eyes and explained, "The girl is going to be _in_ the statue. Oh _please,_ you don't need to look stupid; I already know you are. Just _think._ She isn't going to be sitting in some random building! He doesn't work like that. He likes to put on a show"

"Who does?"

"Moriarty."

There was a pause, until someone asked the question that was on many of their minds. "But how? How can she be _in_ the statue?"

"I… I don't know." Incapable of looking like a fool, Sherlock revived himself from his blunder seconds later. "It's not really possible to know without actually _seeing_ it." He then turned to the window, and ignored everyone around him for the rest of the flight.

Once off of the plane, Sherlock hailed a cab. "Bringen Sie mich in der Statue der Gebrüder Grimm in Hanau." The car ride from Frankfurt to Hanau was brutally boring for him. The sun had started to rise, and light sparkled off of the few raindrops scattered across the window. It was 6:45 in Germany, an hour forward from before. Without realizing where he was, the car slowed to a stop.

There, standing tall, were the Grimm brothers. Or metal sculptures of them, anyway. The government men pulled up in black cars behind him. A man, the leader of the group, walked up to him. Based on his gloves and shoes, he collected cars. He also obviously smoked, considering the smell of his breath and his teeth. "You could've ridden with us."

"I'd prefer not to," Sherlock replied, already observing the metal men before him.

"Okay… so who are they?"

"Jakob and Wilhelm." Upon seeing his confusion, Sherlock continued. "The brothers Grimm. They wrote fairy tales. You have heard of them, right?"

"Yeah, of course. So what if she isn't in there. What's your second guess?"

"I don't _guess_ ," Sherlock snapped, his volume rising. "I know she's in here. I just need to find out _how_."

At that moment, they heard a distant cry from below them. "Hello? Who's there? Help! Hilf mir! Wo bin ich? Where am I?" she screamed frantically, her words a combination of English and German.

"I'm here, Omniscia! Stay calm. Do you know how you got in there?"

"Sherlock? Oh thank you! No, I don't know. He drugged me."

The leader began shouting orders at his men. "Okay, everyone! Spread out, and try to find the entrance. It could be a lever, or a button, or… anything, really. Just look around."

It was nearly fifteen minutes later that one of them shouted, "Over here, sir! I think I've found something!" He had moved one of the plaques from the ground, and revealed a wooden trap door. Stuck to it was a note that said:

 _Hurry, Sherlock! Or else the party will start without you! -JM_

He lifted up the door to reveal a cellar. Covering the floor and illuminating the room, were nearly fifty candles. On one of the walls was a cheap _Happy Birthday!_ banner. Then, laying on the ground in the middle of the floor, was Omniscia. She looked even paler than usual.

She managed to mumble, "Oh and did I mention it's my birthday?" before rolling over, vomiting, and falling unconscious.

 **Okay, so I said a week(ish)... but really I am sorry for not writing this sooner. You should know, I often procrastinate, and it isn't helpful. I feel like I haven't thanked you enough for favorite/reviewing/subscribing, so THANK YOU! Anyway, please tell me how I'm doing!**


	7. Arson, a Baby, and Tears

"Please, Sherlock. Answer me," Omni said for the hundredth time. He didn't know _how_ to answer her. How was _Sherlock_ , of all people, supposed to tell a child that their life had been in danger. Was he supposed to lie to her? He knew parents could lie to their children if it protected them, but _she wasn't his daughter._ Eventually, he decided that the best choice of action would be to tell her the truth.

So, basically, he blurted out, "Yes, it would have killed you, but we got there in time, and you-"

"Thank you, Sherlock." Her voice was thin and weak. It had been two days since they found her, and they still didn't know what Moriarty- or perhaps Brook-had given her to make her like this. She wasn't vomiting anymore, but her throat still burned when she talked.

"For what?"

"Er… I don't know, _saving my life_?" Even in her weakest moment, she could be sarcastic.

"It wasn't actually me that found the opening. You have one of my brother's men to thank."

"Okay, but you knew where to look. So, how's Mary?"

"She's fine. Your father keeps coming up to tell me that she's still _not ready_. You'll probably see him soon." She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"I can see him now, trying to order everyone about." She paused, her mind wandering off. Her face darkened. "He has to know. I have to tell him."

"Tell him what, Omniscia?"

"I never realized before, but if he ever hears me talk, then…" He understood. John wouldn't though; he would be angry at both of them, and he wouldn't trust them anymore.

"Oh, that." Sherlock paused, already trying to think of a solution. "How do you expect to tell him now?"

"That's the problem... I can't. Not now, anyway. He's so stressed, and with everything going on he would just… _snap._ "

"He still might as it is." Just then, Mycroft strolled into the hospital room, a newspaper folded in his hand.

"Ah, yes. There is also the situation with the _mother_."

"Hello, _Mycroft._ I don't know if you two have been properly introduced. This is-"

Suddenly, Omniscia decided to stop talking, and signed _I know who he is. He comes over a lot._

"Still not going to talk, _Omni_? Don't you trust me?" _No, not really. And I just don't like you._ Mycroft scowled down at her, while Sherlock pieced together the conversation.

"Wait, when do you ever go over to their house?"

"I've been aiding the Watsons with the legal things that come with new _children_." He waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. "Bye the way, Sherlock. She's definitely his daughter; we tested her."

"Why the _hell_ would you bother with that?"

"It was necessary, Sherlock," he snapped, "We can't just have this unknown child waltz into their lives, now can we? As I was saying… her mother. Her name was Julia Brook, and-"

"Was?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, _was_. She seemed to have been poisoned. The only problem is, we don't know what she was poisoned with."

"Or who did it…"

"Hm, I suppose you're right… Oh, and have you made up your mind yet, brother?"

"Yes, of course."

"And?"

"No, I won't tell him." Omni sighed in exasperation and signed _Would you care to explain?_ "We aren't telling John who your mother is, or what happened to her. I think that knowing that he had sex with a psychopath's sister, and that she was poisoned by the same psychopath would be a bit much for him."

" _Sherlock!_ Manners!"

"Since when did you care about being rude?" When Mycroft didn't answer, but continued to glare at him, Sherlock added, "So, what is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"The newspaper. You never carry them, so there must be something in it that you were so _desperate_ to share with us."

"Yes, well, it seems that there's been a fire." When both of the others showed looks of shock, he continued, "An orphanage in Ireland burned down about a month ago, but no-one was injured or killed. There was, however, a young girl that was never found. Is it necessary for me to say a name?" _What exactly are you implying?_ "I'm _implying_ that I think we have a little arsonist on our hands."

"What'd you do, set the curtains on fire and warn everyone to get out?" Sherlock was grinning, even though he probably shouldn't have been. Omniscia, however, did not find this funny, so she did her signature move: she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

That was when John came into the hospital room, out of breath from running. He was somehow smiling through the nine months worth of stress on his shoulders. "She's here."

/

Sherlock stared down at the shriveled, pink face that lay in his arms. "What's her name?" he asked.

"Abigail Willow Watson," John replied, pausing between each name.

"Why _Willow_?"

"Well, we weren't going to name her Sherlock, but I thought that Willow was close enough to William…" Sherlock was staring at him in a way that was very similar to the way he did when asked to be John's best man.

"You n- you named her after me?"

"Well, um yeah. I suppo-" John stopped talking then, when he saw something that he couldn't quite comprehend. Sherlock Holmes was crying.

 **Hello! It's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm sorry. Really, I am. Anyway, thank you for following, favoriting, and reviewing. Please continue to do so… if you actually like it that much. I will try to write sooner this time.**

 **Okay, so I think I should add that when I started writing this, I didn't expect anyone to acc actually read it. So, you can imagine my surprise when I saw that people like what I was writing. Thank you so much!**


	8. Losing Control

When the facts of what was happening registered in Sherlock's mind, he quickly walked over to Mary's hospital bed. Holding Abigail at arms length, he mumbled, "This is yours," and went to the door. He tried not to make eye contact with John as he brushed the tears from his face. He tried to push past his friend, but soon found himself enveloped in a hug. He froze; his hair stood on end, and it felt like time slowed down. "Thank you, Sherlock."

He pulled away and looked John in the eyes, "For what?"

"Everything."

/

It was two in the morning a week later, when Sherlock was brought out of his Mind Palace. Omni had just stomped into his flat, yelling about killing someone. "What are you doing?" He barked at her.

"That- That complete _psychopath_!" She screamed, waving her hands around. Sherlock wondered if he was anything like this at her age… probably. "She's a _week old_. Doesn't he have something better to do? It seems like all he does is terrorize children! If we don't do _something_ , the poor kid will end up like _me_. I mean, seriously, what is his deal? He just-'"

"Shut _up,_ will you?" He snapped, rubbing his temples, "Sit down or something, for God's sake." She did, and she seemed to calm down a little.

"Okay, so I was just in my room, and I hear someone walking around. Naturally, I think it's John, right? He hasn't been sleeping much lately, so I went to check on him. But _no!_ It's my good ol' _uncle_ , standing over the baby's crib. So I yelled 'hey!' and he turned around, and I just, sort of…" She looked away, unsure if she should continue.

"You just sort of… what?"

"I punched him. In the face."

"You _what?"_ Sherlock asked in disbelief. He was holding back laughter.

Thinking that she was in trouble, Omni started to get defensive. "Well, I mean, he was going to do something to Will, so I just… I think his nose is broken." Sherlock wasn't even trying to control his laughter now.

"What did his face look like?"

"He was a bit surprised." She held her nose and made her eyes wide. "It was something like this." This made both of them laugh even harder. "I've never really heard you laugh before."

"Nor I you," he responded. He had calmed his laughter then, and he looked almost thoughtful, or as thoughtful as Sherlock could look. "You called her Will earlier."

"Well, yeah. I mean there's nothing wrong with the name Abigail, but I just think she looks more like a Willow. And you know I like strange names. A girl named Will is kind of strange."

"Hm, I suppose so. I have another question, though. Why weren't _you_ asleep?"

She rolled her eyes, but answered, "I have _insomniac tendencies_ , apparently. The first night I actually slept well was when I first got here. I make for a good watch dog, though."

"Ah, yes. If there's an intruder, you'll punch them in the nose and then set the whole house on fire… _effective_."

"Not funny," she snapped, but she was laughing also. "Seriously, though. Do I have your permission to kill him?"

"Sure, Omniscia, you have my permission to kill Moriarty." Just then, Sherlock's phone rang, interrupting their laughter. Sherlock picked up the phone and frowned.

"Lestrade?" His laughter was gone and he had steeled himself. _Yeah, Sherlock. We found something in that room under the statue._ "What? What is it?" _It's an earpiece. Like, a bluetooth earbud. It was on the ground near where Omni was laying. We tested it, and some of her, um, earwax was on it, so…_ "So, we know she had an earpiece in? What else?" _We asked everyone in the town, and they didn't see a man anywhere near the statue that night. They did see… a young, blonde girl 'messing around'. They said she looked sluggish, like she was tired or even drunk. Sherlock, Omni somehow got herself in there, but-_ "Yes, thank you. This has been most helpful, Lestrade. Goodbye." Sherlock hung up the phone and glanced at Omni. He walked over to his chair, opposite of her, and put his hands together.

"Do you happen to remember flying to Hanau?" He asked, his voice full of sarcasm. He started to mumble about how it didn't make sense, and how Moriarty usually explained himself, just to be arrogant and obnoxious. That was when he got a text: **If you'd like a demonstration, meet me here in an hour. -RB** Below that were coordinates. Sherlock ran to his computer and searched them, only to find that they belonged to an abandoned warehouse. "Oh, this will be interesting. You stay here!" he yelled when Omni rose to follow him. In less than thirty seconds, he was out the door, his hair a mess and his scarf barely wrapped around his neck.

He hailed a cab and gave them the address, ignoring the confusion on the cabbie's face when he did so. Once they were about halfway there, he called Omni. "Listen, you need to keep your phone on. Do not hang up. I need you to be able to hear everything he says. Write it down if you need to, just make sure you can hear everything. Oh, and don't talk… or follow me. Promise me that you won't follow me." _Ugh, fine. I promise._

Omniscia didn't follow Sherlock… at first. Before she did, she stopped at her house to pick up something crucial: Her father's Sig Sauer pistol. John, Mary, and little Abigail were sound asleep when she slipped into their room and took it from the drawer. _Then_ , she hailed a cab and gave the address she heard Sherlock give. From what she could hear through her headphones, Sherlock was still in his cab. Hopefully, she would get there before anything horrible happened. Hopefully, she could put an end to this.

/

"Oh, you're here!" Moriarty drawled in a sickly sweet voice from across the room. He was seated at a neat table, complete with table cloth, flowers, and a tea tray. His nose was covered with a white bandage, and he and the table were the only other things in the building that weren't completely disgusting. Well, Moriarty _was_ disgusting, but in a different way. The detective crossed the dusty room, stepping over pieces of what used to be the roof, and sat at the table with him.

"What are we having?" Sherlock asked, examining the things in front of him.

"Hm, that is a good question. It's my latest product. Doesn't have a name yet, but I was thinking something like _Richard's Remedy_."

"Ah, funny."

"Yes, I thought so too. That isn't actually what's been puzzling you, though. Is it?" When Sherlock looked confused, he continued, "You want to know how I'm here. How I'm alive." Sherlock nodded. "You're overthinking it, Sherlock! You ALWAYS overthink things! There were two guns. There was a man who shot out of the window one story below us into the bricks on the building opposite. I never fired my gun. I just fell and punctured the bag of fake blood on my neck. The end. Simple."

"Oh."

"'Oh' indeed, Sherlock. 'Oh' indeed… Now, onto the other way I outsmarted you: The poison. It sort of, um, _hijacks_ the brain, making it more susceptible to control from another location, or obedience. I just tell them what to do, and they do it. The question is, will it work on someone as smart as you?" Sherlock glanced down at his pocket, where his phone sat silent. _Did she hang up?_ "Oh, don't even think about calling for help. They won't get here in time. Now, please, have some tea." Sherlock watched closely, as Moriarty poured him a cup of the poison. Was he seriously about to poison himself just for an experiment? Well, it wasn't much worse than some of the other drugs he had taken in his lifetime…

He took a sip of tea.

/

Omni watched from the back of the cab, as a black car drove away from the warehouse."Follow that car. Don't ask questions. I'll pay you extra." They followed the car to the Watsons' house, where Sherlock carried out an unconscious John. From there, they went to St. Barts Hospital.

She flew out of the car and up the staircase after the three men, making sure they couldn't hear her. She watched as Moriarty controlled every one of Sherlock's movements. "Let's see what we can get you to do… Can you spin in a circle for me?" John, who was awake now, watched in horror as his friend obeyed Moriarty again and again. "Now, walk over to Dr. Watson. Now pick him up. That's it. Okay, now, carry him over to the ledge. Let him hang there for a bit. Ye-"

As his commands were interrupted, the zombie-like detective spun around, setting John down. Omniscia stood at the entrance to the roof, holding the pistol. Omni then turned to face Moriarty, who was standing on the edge of the building. Without a word, she fired a single bullet into the chest of her uncle. He stood for a few seconds, wobbling, a nasty grin on his face. He let out a small laugh before saying with a cough, "Dead is the new sexy." Then, James Moriarty fell.

 **That was delightful, wasn't it? I had a bit of writer's block while writing this chapter (that's why it's been so long,) and I really am sorry about that. Anyway, please review!**


	9. Aftermath

**Okay, so before I start, I feel like I should explain why I disappeared off of the face of the Earth. I had finals and holidays and traveling, and was generally really busy. I decided to take a break from writing for a while, and so I did. But, anyway, I'm back and I changed my name from Holmessherlock221 to OncomingEastWind. Here goes…**

"You have to do _something!_ " Sherlock growled at his brother in desperation. He ran his nervous fingers through his curls for the thousandth time as he paced the office floor. To his despair, Mycroft only shook his head.

"I _do not_ and will not. I have already defended one murderer this month, Sherlock. Imagine how it would look if I defended another."

"I don't _care_ how it would look! They're going to lock her up and," he paused, taking in a sharp breath. "They think she's insane, but she's not. She didn't start the fire on purpose, but they think she did. They'll put her in a mental institution with a straight jacket just because she was trying to protect me, and I know that doesn't sound bad, but it is. I _know_. You know that I know. Sometimes being alone with yourself is the worst punishment there is." His voice had started to break, and his sea-blue eyes were stinging.

"Calm down, Sherlock. You're getting emotional."

" _Am I?_ " he snapped, "I hadn't noticed! And what's so wrong with that? Why can't I be emotional for _once_?" With that, he stomped out of Mycroft's office, slamming the door as he went. All that was left in the room was an uncomfortable silence and a very concerned brother.

/

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. John was just going to let them take her away. "Maybe they know what they're doing, Sherlock. I mean, she did kill someone."

"A murderer, John. She killed the most dangerous man in the world, who was trying to kill you at that moment."

"That's exactly why I think she should get some help, Sherlock. She's dangerous!"

"Doing this to her isn't going to help her, John. Trust me, I would know. And she isn't dangerous. She's your daughter, and I think you might be forgetting that."

"Oh, really? Well, I think you're forgetting that _she isn't your daughter, Sherlock!_ This isn't even your problem." He turned and went to talk to another police officer. _In what way is this not my problem? She trusts me more than him. She spends all of her time at 221B. She might as well be my daughter._ He shuddered at the thought. How things had changed.

/

"How did you do it?"

"I didn't! I swear!"

"Stop smiling so much, it's unnatural," he told her, losing his patience. "Someone must have convinced them to find you innocent."

"And you're sure it wasn't Mycroft?"

"Positive."

"Well, I don't have any friends, so it's got to be one of yours." Omni's voice was full of sarcasm.

"It doesn't make sense…" He rubbed his hands together, and tried to think of possibilities.

/

Omni walked up the seventeen creaky steps of 221B, expecting to find Sherlock in his armchair. However, in his place was his female counterpart, wearing a crimson grin and a black evening gown.

 **So, I know that was short, but hopefully not completely horrible. PLEASE REVIEW! I need to know if any of you are still interested in reading this!**


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